The Night That Ends
by Lauren Mockett
Summary: An alternate ending to my favorite book. Don't get me wrong, I love the ending in Hugo's, but sometimes I like a happier last chapter. COMPLETE. It looks like a lot of chapters but they are very short. What would happen if Jean Valjean had been captured? What if more people joined the barricades-including Cosette? Find out and let me know what you think!
1. A Charming Beginning

"Are you feeling up to an adventure tomorrow?" Jean Valjean asked from across the splintered table. They were eating in his little shed, as usual, because he refused luxury, and Cosette refused to be without him.

"Oh papa! It's been far too long," the light from the fire reflected in her blue eyes, as a mischievous grin spread across her charming young face. "Of course I am up to it! Where are we going? Will we leave early in the morning or later tonight? We mustn't be seen by Tuisaunt you know." Cosette giggled. She had no idea why these adventures were so secretive, but it thrilled her that they were.

Jean Valjean smiled, a rare expression for him, except when he was with Cosette. When he rescued her so many years ago, he had had no idea she would have such a reciprocal effect on him.

"Your old papa will need his rest first. I will wake you up early tomorrow and I will tell you then where we are going."

Cosette bit her lip and grinned. She drank the last of her milk, walked around the table, and planted a kiss on her father's grey hairs. She had no idea how out of place her velvet collared dress looked in this cabin, but it pleased Jean Valjean to see her so well dressed.

"It can't come soon enough papa."


	2. A Rumpled Paper

Earlier: As the two were walking out of Sunday mass, they were spotted by a skinny street urchin named Eponine. They didn't recognise her-how could they have- but she knew both of them right away. She'd inherited a few talents from her father. One was her memory. The other was the cunning ability to get what one could out of any situation.

As she ran towards them, white and thin as a skeleton, both father and daughter regretted pouring their purses onto the donation tray.

"Mamselle, Monsieur!" Eponine called.

"I'm very sorry Mademuaselle, but we have nothing to give you," Jean Valjean addressed her in such a respectful tone that it threw Eponine off guard, but only for a second.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken my good Monsieur. It is I who have something for you." The words sounded much too refined coming from this scratchy voice of the gutter. Jean Valjeans surprise showed clearly on his face. It had been a long time since he had been taken for a beggar. What could this poor creature have to offer him?

Eponine fished out a crumpled envelope from the folds of her chemise, and presented it as if it were the crown jewels.

"It's an invitation. A letter from my father, Monsieur Jondrette. He needs your help, and requests your presence any time you can manage it."

This was clearly a beggar's letter. Cosette had read and answered enough of these to know one when she saw one, no matter how cleverly disguised. But there was something about this girl, maybe the fact that, had it not been for her benevolent father, she, Cosette, would have been in her exact position...or worse, that made Cosette speak up.

"We would be honored." She did her best to make it sound true. "I believe we are available tomorrow night, is that right papa?" Jean Valjean blinked, surprised yet again, and nodded, dumbly.

"Good," continued Cosette, "I always wanted a friend," She looked at Eponine who was, at the moment, questioning Cosette's sanity, "I'm Cosette Fauchelevent. And you?"

"Eva Jondrette," Eponine lied.

"Eva Jondrette," Cosette repeated, nodding. She then proceeded to drape her lavender silk shawl around her new friend's naked shoulders. Telling her how nice it looked with her dark hair. Jean Valjean beamed. Eponine was so stunned, she simply thanked Cosette, and hurried away.

But it was good she went so quickly. She had urgent business with the police.


	3. An Unexpected Cloud

The sun was still contemplating sleeping in as Jean Valjean and Cosette left the house. He had come to wake her in his stocking feet (Which the young girl always found amusing) but now he wore thick workers boots. Cosette had boots of her own, which she was embarrassed to wear, except on these little escapades with her father.

Sometimes they tip-toed through the empty city, playing spies Cosette called it, but this time they left by the back gate, and walked through the meadow. They watched the stars and Jean Valjean told Cosette their names, and stories he made up about the pictures they formed. Cosette soaked every word in like a wildflower soaks in rain. Though his stories weren't very creative, she loved to hear bits of what was in his head.

They crossed the meadow and by the time the black sky was turning blue, they entered the woods.

For the father, these adventures were more than just the glorious hours spent with his Cosette. They were practice journeys for the next time they had to make a quick getaway. Jean Valjean often brought his gun with him, and they attained their dinner in the woods. It made Cosette sad to shoot animals herself, but Jean Valjean insisted that she learn to use a gun so she would be prepared if necessary. She became quite good with the wooden targets Jean Valjean set out for her.

"Do not be afraid Cosette," Jean Valjean whispered now, "There is something beautiful waiting at the end of the darkness."

"Oh papa," Cosette sighed and leaned on his strong arm, "You know I could never be afraid when I'm with you."

It was a short hike through the dark, and just as the trees began to part at the top of the hill, the sun burst above the horizon. Cosette, always a little wild, ran straight to the edge of the small cliff, and dangled her feet off of it. Jean Valjean joined her, handing her the cold breakfast he'd packed. There they stayed, enjoying the beauty of the moment. The glorious feeling of knowing that one is loved, and safe. It was Cosette who finally ended the beautiful moment, bringing them both back to reality.

"Oh! The sun! Papa, we must get back before it wakes Tuisaunt to tell on us!" She smiled impishly as they got to their feet and headed back into the woods.

"It's strange how lovely it becomes when the light shines through it," she mused, looking around at the bright leaves.

"People are like that too," Jean Valjean remarked, solemnly.

Now Cosette grew thoughtful. She wondered if, when her papa had first found her, she had looked like a dark forest. She had certainly felt that she was one, and she loved her papa even more, for showing her the light.

Their hike down had taken them in a roundabout direction which ended at the part of the meadow which skirted a dirt country road coming from Paris. This made Jean Valjean only a little nervous, since the road was almost unused.

"Without you, Cosette," he sighed, "I would be a dark forest still."

"And I without you," she smiled, "But we have each other, and we are not." As they entered the meadow again, she tossed her messy blond hair back, and grinned at the light blue sky.

Suddenly an earsplitting clatter of whips on skin, and wheels on rocks came roaring into their peaceful world. Jean Valjean had trained Cosette well for an occasion such as this, and they were both flat on their stomachs in the weeds, before they could be seen. In this case though, there was just as much danger in seeing.

It was all Cosette could do to keep from screaming. The men in the enormous cart were chained together, tight as paper, and covered in blood. The jostling cart made their shaven heads bump on the hard old wood, but if they tried to lift them the guards would only bludgeon them harder. The cart in fact was going very quickly down the lane, but to Cosette, it's passing felt like an eternity.

She waited to ask her question until it was out of sight, "Papa?" his hands were shaking. That made her more afraid. If he wasn't alright, this was serious.

"Cosette, I will tell you what that was, but afterwards I want you to try to forget you ever saw it. Alright?"

Cosette swallowed, "Alright."

"Those men are being punished for breaking the law. They are convicts," he took a deep breath, "Dangerous men."

The past filled Jean Valjean's mind and he became a galley slave once again. Under the whip, slogging in salt water, beginning work before the dawn and not finishing until long after dark. Sleeping in chains, and having everything-even his identity-taken away. Cosette must never know about this. What a fool he'd been to think himself safe! He would never be safe.

Jean Valjean locked himself in his little house, and sat staring at the cold white coals all day. Cosette was much preoccupied by the events of the morning, but just as age looks to the past, youth sees only the future. She was excited. Tonight, she and her father would go and see her new friend, Eva.

She wrote a shopping list for Tuisaunt (blankets and sheets, soap, new clothes-pretty but modest-and a large basket of food) and sent her in a fiacre to the market. This done, she wrote a letter to her Jean Valjean, kindly reminding him of their plans for the evening, and got in the bath with Charles Dickens for company.


	4. A Bit of Revenge

Eponine was seething by the time the knock came at the door. She hated her father already, but tonight had made it much worse. In the hope of tugging on the bourgeois heartstrings, he had smashed their chair, put out their fire, and forced her poor sister Azelma to break the window with her fist. She couldn't wait to leave this forsaken cave of a home. If her plan worked, she would today.

"Welcome, welcome Monsieur benefactor." M. Thenardier oozed. Jean Valjean merely nodded. Cosette set the two huge baskets on the small round table, smiling at Eponine who was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "And welcome, my dear young lady!" Exclaimed M. Thenardier, "What a charming daughter you have Monsieur..."

"Fauchelevent. And thank you. She is lovely, and very dear to me, as I'm sure your daughters are to you."

"Yes very."

Eponine snorted. It was at this moment that Cosette noticed poor Azelma, just a bit younger than she, crying softly in the corner.

"Oh the poor thing!" She cried, and, skirts billowing, ran to her. Eponine took advantage of this moment, Jean Valjean being distracted by her father, and Cosette focused in on Azelma, to sneak out the door. Only her mother noticed her, but for one reason or another, she let her go.

Out in the cobbled street, Eponine whistled three high notes as loud as she could. Chief of police Javert and a squad of about 24 came running. They appeared from behind market stands, slunk around parked carriages, and popped out from under piles of rubbish.

"I hope your description of the bourgeois is correct. If you are right, you will be rewarded substantially. If you are wrong you have wasted my time, and will be punished," Javert warned.

"I promise you monsieur inspector," Eponine said with complete confidence, "I would not recognize my own reflection with more assurance."

When Jean Valjean had taken Cosette away from the Thenardiers inn so many years ago, the jealous couple had reported him to the police. The interest of the authorities seemed to grow at a shocking rate the more details they learned about the man, so Eponine had marked him for a criminal. It had given her some consolation every time she thought of the ragged illegitimate holding the coveted forty-Frank-doll, that at least this millionaire beggar might be caught some day, and Cosette would be out on the street. Now was her chance. A way out of the pit for her, with the added bonus of throwing Cosette back in.


	5. A Grim Plan

" **So you see Monsieur Fauchelevent, if we do not pay our rent by tomorrow, we will be thrown into the street, and my poor wounded daughter too!" Thenardier begged.**

" **No I'm afraid it will not be the street. It will be the prison!" Javert announced smugly. No one had even noticed him come in, and now it was too late. Even for Jean Valjean. "Chain them all. No not the girls. Yes even the gentleman," Jean Valjean shoved the man trying to chain him to the floor, and looked for Cosette.**

" **Papa!"**

 **He rushed to her, ready to hold her and jump out the Thenardier's broken window. Suddenly, all 24 policemen, realising he was clearly the biggest bear to catch, pounced on him at once. Javert alone held the unresisting Thenardier couple.**

" **Papa!" Cosette screamed again, "Monsieur Inspector, please! There must be some mistake. That man is the closest to perfect you'll ever meet. He is a good man Inspector. I won't let you take him,".**

" **Cosette, no. Let him do it," Jean Valjean mumbled feebly, "I am what he says,".**

 **Cosette stared at him, pressed to the ground by several men, fresh bruises already starting to swell on his venerable old face. Speechless. The world was upside down. Her angel papa a criminal? The tears came like the beautiful fountains of the luxembourg. Fast and unceasing. She fell to her knees beside him, but before she could kiss his face, they began to drag him away.**

" **No!" She shrieked, kicking and beating on the policemen's backs. When she received no reaction for this, she tried to regain her composure; breath heaving and cheeks soaked to address Javert.**

" **Inspector. There must be something I can do. Would you accept money?"**

" **You ridiculous child, this man deserves his chains, you heard him yourself,". Javert smirked. Pity was not on the vocabulary list in the Police Training Manual. "It just so happens, that we do accept money. A very large amount of money in a very short amount of time. It's called bail. But you are penniless, and therefore there is no hope for this Jean Valjean," he sighed heavily, "We have been hunting for him for many years, well, at least I have. Most everyone else believed him dead after he saved the life of that clumsy sailor,"**

 **Cosette shook her head, "Do you even hear yourself? He saved someone's life! That should be bail enough. And besides that, of course I have money. How much do you want?"**

" **All the money you think belongs to you is likely dishonestly acquired, and will be confiscated along with most all of your belongings following the deposit of these criminals,". Jean Valjean and the others were being loaded onto a cart by now. Eponine had taken her reward money and Azelma and bolted. It was Javert and Cosette alone now.**

" **How much will the bail cost?" Cosette repeated. She was one of those people whose emotional outbursts are intense, but short. Her fit was over, and she was calm and businesslike.**

 **Javert laughed humorlessly, "For one such as Jean Valjean, you would need to raise at least 350 Francs by next week. It is impossible. I would not bother trying if I were you,". With that, Javert turned on his heel, and was gone.**

 **Cosette crumpled on the garret floor and sobbed into her brocade skirt. There was no question in her mind that her father was a good man. Whatever crimes he had done in the past were immediately forgiven. She knew there was no extent to which she would not go to save her father, but she had no idea how to start. The responsibility and pressure overwhelmed her limbs, and they would not let her stand for some time.**

 **Finally she got to her feet, the beginning of a grim plan in mind.**


	6. A Second-Hand Home

**Eponine and Azelma were positively giddy with the latest twist in their so far jagged lives. They walked straight to the doctor (They didn't think of a carriage) and stitched Azelma up. As they already had enough clothes "For now," said Eponine, and food from Cosette's baskets, their next object was to find somewhere suitable to instal themselves.**

 **They walked, happily smacking their lips on the buns Tuisaunt had bought, through the cool spring night until they found what both girls had long considered the most attractive part of Paris. They had passed it many times on their letter-delivering trips, and had noticed that one of the homes was for sale. It must be admitted that the two girls looked very stupid as they strolled in their rags confidently up the walk to make an offer on the home.**

" **The master don't have anything for charity," the butler barked.**

" **We wish to buy this house," said Azelma, graciously ignoring the butler's words.**

" **It is still for sale is it not?" asked Eponine.**

" **Well...yes it is, but-"**

" **Show the young ladies in, Bellamy," said a voice from the parlour.**

 **The gentleman was very respectful and diplomatic. Not only were the girls able to sign the papers and buy the house, he invited them in to stay with him, and his little family until he was fully packed. It looked as if things would finally be well with the Thenardier girls.**


	7. An Answered Prayer

Meanwhile: Cosette had been able to trade her dress to a seamstress shop for a mere twenty francs and a simple muslin. Not much else had been accomplished. Since she was seven years old Cosette hadn't had a care in the world. She had never imagined a different future than the one she shared with her papa in their quaint country mansion seldom leaving the gates of her wild garden paradise.

Now she was desperate. She had no other plan than to go knocking on every door she saw, asking for work. Despite her naivety Cosette was determined. Her papa had saved her once, and now she must repay the favor. She gritted her teeth and rapped at the next door. She would not let him down.

"Excuse me Monsieur," Cosette spoke and stood as gracefully as a queen, "but are you in need of any services-"

"Wot do you tyke me for eh? Git out o' 'ere!"

"My apologies,"

Next door. Nothing. Next door. Can't afford another maid. Next door. Find yourself a husband, he'll take care of you. Next door. "Please-" Slam. Next door. Not home. Next door. Not tonight.

It was beginning to rain, and Cosette was cold. The Cafe Musain lured her like a trap. She could hear the laughter from down the street, and the glowing windows beckoned her with one word: Heat. She splashed through the street, as fast as she could. The cafe was bound to want someone extra around to run errands, clean, serve customers. Things Cosette had once been accustomed to.

She threw the door open, twisted some water out of her long hair, pinched her cheeks, plastered on a smile, and marched up to the front counter.

"Raining is it?" asked the rosey bartender.

"Yes monsieur," Cosette blushed.

"Well what do you want then?" he asked, leaning over the counter.

Cosette cleared her throat, praying silently the way papa had taught her. "I want a job monsieur. Please, I'll do anything you like."

"Oh really... Anything?" his dirty fingers reached for her cheek.

She turned away,"No. Not that. I'm not that desperate." This bartender had asked of her the one thing she was not prepared to do. She knew if it was her father's choice he would rather be guillotined a thousand times than allow her to sell herself that way.

The bartender scoffed, "Well come back when you are then. Out with ya!"

The words were wasted because Cosette had already bolted for the door. Had she really been taken for a woman of the street? Compared to this man, the rain seemed extremely inviting. At least it would hide her tears.

"Mademuaselle wait!" It was not the bartender's voice. This voice belonged to someone kind and gentle. Someone not unlike her papa. The second she heard it she knew she could trust its owner. "Wait." he said again, although she had already stopped.

"Yes Monsieur?" she asked.

"What is your name?"

"Cosette,"

"My name is Marius Pontmercy."


	8. A Love Between Souls

For a long moment they simply stared into each other's eyes, taking each other in like fresh air. In that moment, they didn't feel the cold. It was as if the world was gone and the two had ascended into the stars. Then Cosette remembered where she was, and looked down.

"I'm afraid you cannot help me Marius," she said, reading his mind, "unless you can offer me a very large sum of money," her voice displayed her doubt like a doll in a toyshop window. Marius looked down at his suit. It was at least five years old (It was the one he had been wearing when he had left his grandfather's house for the last time) and it certainly looked it. He had never cared until now.

Marius did not question why Cosette needed such a large sum of money. If she needed it, she needed it, and he would not stop until he could give it to her. "Believe it or not mademoiselle Cosette, I may be able to do just that," he assured her. "But first, come with me. We must get you dried off." He offered her his sopping wet arm, and she took it, laughing at the predicament, and her wonderful fortune in finding this charming young man.

"Why do you laugh Cosette?" Marius asked, amused.

"We have both been brought up to be fine, and rich, have we not? And we are walking through the street at night, and in the rain without a sou to our names,"

Marius laughed now, "It is rather strange," he laughed, "But I have somewhere we can go, and I have just finished studying to be a lawyer. I'm sure we can scrape together...how much did you say you needed?"

Cosette bit her lip, but her heart told her Marius would not abandon her, no matter the cost. "At least 350 Francs."

"350 Francs?!"

"By next week," Cosette grimaced, deciding. "I will tell you the whole story when we make it to your flat, for it is quite a tale."

"Do not preoccupy yourself. I am confident that together we can come up with that sum," Marius lied. Cosette did not quite believe him, but after all she reasoned with herself, how do I know how much lawyers make? Maybe my Marius is right.

The rain only poured harder, as the two made their way through narrower and narrower streets, and into a very ugly part of the city in which Marius lived. Marius opened the door to his one room flat, bade Cosette sit on the bed (the only furniture aside from the bookshelf) and started a fire.

"I am so sorry, I do not have a change of clothes for you Cosette-"

"Please do not trouble yourself Marius. You have done more than enough already. All night I knocked on doors belonging to people much richer than you, asking for work, and they would not give me even that." Marius sat by her on the bed, wanting to take her hand, but worried about what she might think of him. She wished he would. "You've made me feel as if, were it yours to give, you would hand me the world,".

"Cosette, you are right. I adore you," He could not say more, but one look at his eyes told her it was unfathomably true.

"And you Marius, are an answer to my prayers. As soon as I heard your voice I was in love with you." She laid her sodden head on his shoulder, but he turned to her sharply so she would look at him. It was deja vu of that moment in the rain until Marius took Cosette's delicate hands in his. Their foreheads touched.

"You truly love me then?"

"Oh hush!" she blushed, "You know it."

When their lips met it was innocent, and tender. Neither could tell how long the kiss lasted, but when they broke apart, they were satisfied. For now, theirs was a love in which only the souls became passionate.


	9. A Tired Convict

"38509! Get over here now!" The prison guard yelled over the crashing waves. Jean Valjean hurried, his chains clanking, to escape the mallet aimed at his back. "Yes Monsieur."

"Hold up the mast,".

"Yes Monsieur." Jean Valjean bent low, bending his legs like a frog's. His strength had not been diminished at all by age, but he had not attempted to lift anything so large since Fauchelevent's carriage. Dear Lord above, give me strength, he prayed silently. Grunting and breathing harder than a hurricane, Jean Valjean managed to mount the mast upon his shoulder.

"Move! Move! Move!" the guard called to Valjean's fellow prisoners. They tied the enormous ropes around the mast as fast as they could, but to Jean Valjean, they seemed excruciatingly slow. He closed his eyes and tried to take his mind to another place; tried to deny the feelings of hatred arising in his heart.

"You can let it down now," grunted the guard. Jean Valjean dropped the mast and stretched his back. He and the other prisoners attached themselves to the ropes, and began to walk in towards the harbor.

The sun was drooping beneath the vast black warf, but Jean Valjean knew it would still be hours before the chain gang would be allowed back into their cells for some moldy bread and a blink of sleep. Jean Valjean's was underground for top-security reasons, which made it hotter in summer, and colder in winter, and it always stunk of sewer.

That, however, wasn't what bothered him. He knew Javert would assume all the money he'd earned as a businessman in Montrefremil was stolen. He had given most away, but had saved a large sum for Cosette's dowry. Images of his poor lark begging for her bread tortured the poor old mind.

It was his fault she had always lived in hiding. His fault that she was now forlorn and alone. How had he been so selfish as to take this chance? He should have left Cosette with someone much more...more what? Safe? No. There was nothing he could have done. It was not his fault. It was theirs. The hatred boiled like a fire in his heart as he laid down on the cold bricks of the prison floor. He dreamt of a starving Cosette driven to prostitution, angry and broken, never to call him 'papa' again.


	10. A Rebellious Gamin

**Gavroche Thenardier rose early that morning. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and the others had planned a rally, and he planned to be part of it. He scurried down the leg of his colossal elephant home, and, climbing over carriages, made his way to the square in front of the house of the great General Lamarque.** _Ah,_ **he bragged to himself** _, so I am the first one here. Good. I may just have time for breakfast._

 **The gamin headed towards the nearest bake shop, singing his little songs as he went. Songs that confused many people, and made many people sad.**

" **Gooday Monsieur!", he said, as he approached the counter.**

" **Get out gamin!", the baker did not have to look up from his dough to know it was Gavroche who was speaking.**

" **Aw now that ain't very respectful now is it old man? I did come in here to do business withya," then muttering to himself, "but seein as you're expectin trouble..." he trailed off.**

 **A certain customer (one of the baker's favorites) was sitting at a table with his breakfast croissant open about to be buttered, but he had forgotten the food he wasn't really hungry for when a better entertainment opportunity had provided itself. He stared at the gamin, eager for the laugh that would come when the dirty thing was turned out on his ear. Gavroche noticed this, and, making sure to stay out of sight, tapped him on the shoulder. While the gullible man looked around the wrong way, the gamin poured soot into the middle of his baguette, and closed it.**

 **It was at this moment that the bourgeois remembered his food. Assuming he had already buttered the fluffy white bread, he picked it up and took a chomp. This produced enough angry ravings to distract the baker just long enough for Gavroche to snatch up a baguette, and a few muffins and scramble out the door yelling, "Then it's trouble you'll receive!",**

 **With his first good breakfast in weeks hastily stowed away in his stomach, the little boy zigzagged his way back towards the rally. He looked through the gathering crowd to the front, where Enjolras and Combeferre stood on what might have been Lamarque's porch.**

 **The two student's hearts were pounding. Not out of nerves as both were well accustomed to public speaking, but out of excitement. This was the largest crowd they'd seen yet. The people were coming to their senses.**

" **Halo there Monsieur Gavroche!", Courfeyrac was passing out pamphlets to the now cheering mob, and caught sight of his young friend.**

" **Courf! Lovely to see you! Gimme a boost willya?" Courfeyrac stooped so Gavroche could climb aboard, and suddenly the little boy could see everything. He felt he was on top of the world. He listened and cheered as Enjolras yelled about Justice, and the Rights of Man and Citizen, and Courfeyrac added statistics and citations where necessary. Questions and problems were solved in few words, and the crowd was becoming braver.**


	11. A Stubborn Old Bourgeois

Marius sat up and stretched. His back was sore from sleeping on the floor by the fire. He felt in his heart that there was something sacred about seeing an angel sleep, and he only dared hope that one day, they might marry, he would have that privilege. But for now, he had made a makeshift curtain from an extra blanket and hung it across the slanted garret ceiling. Cosette had been convinced to sleep in his bed on the other side.

For Marius, the past evening had been dreamlike, his life made heavenly from the mere presence of this beautiful creature, and then, he now knew that she returned his love. It seemed too wonderful to be true. Ordinarily, Marius might have gone into an overpowering reverie on the subject, perhaps only waking to the sound of Cosette's voice, but logic reminded the dreamer that there was a difficult business to be dealt with today. He must go and see Monsieur Gillenormand.

The thought of begging his Royalist grandfather for money felt like a bullet wound to the stomach. For three years since he had left that house Marius had lived miserably; sometimes almost starving, while sending back his grandfather's money packages unopened. But now, for the sake of his love, he must do it. Though the poor, naive girl did not know, there was almost no other way in the world to make 350 Francs from nothing in a week.

The poor troubled youth put on his one good coat, the black one with only a few tears, and went out, leaving a note for Cosette on the bookshelf.

Last night Cosette had related to Marius, in few details, her story. And he had told her his. Both natures were of that very trusting sort, and although both tales were quite unbelieveable, neither doubted a word. Now Marius knew perfectly well why Cosette needed the money: to free her father and savior, a man of the best possible character, from the galleys.

Marius walked for six hours straight until he reached the once familiar door of the Gillenormand shatole. Not bothering to brush himself off or straighten his hair, Marius knocked. Basque, the butler, went livid.

"I promise I won't stay long," Marius assured him, "I only wish to speak briefly to M. Gillenormand. An urgent matter of business." Much to his surprise, Marius was welcomed into the drawing room. Basque gestured kindly to the armchair in which Marius used to sit often while his grandfather would scold him about his father, or something he had or hadn't said at a salon. And that was on good days.

After an almost unbearable wait in which the only sound was the ticking of the enormous grandfather clock by the door, grandfather Gillenormand appeared. Stately and domineering in the proper royalist attire of the days of king Louis the XVIII.

"What do you want in coming here?"

Marius swallowed down his pride. "I am in need of money," he dared not meet his grandfather's eyes, but he could not look at the floor. He stared instead, at the old man's quickly receding hairline.

"Well of course you need money, you look as if you walked here. And look at the state of your attire! Foolish boy. To waste one's youth on politics, and Republicanism at that. Hah! Of course you are in need of money, I tell you, but what on earth have you come here for?"

Marius stood, fists clenched. The grandfather may as well have spat in his face. Every inch of Marius's body itched to explode on the old man, and leave. This time for good. But he kept his calm.

"The money I need is not for myself, but for someone in need. I am perfectly alright the way I am, living on my own income."

M. Gillenormand began to laugh. "What income?"

"I translate books into English and German."

"You lie! You don't know English and German!"

"I do. And a great many more things you have no idea of,".

The grandfather scratched his beard, seemingly amused, but secretly impressed. "Well, tell me then, Monsieur Baron," he said the word Baron one might say the word slime, or traitor, "What purpose do you have in mind for my money?"

"I can tell you nothing Monsieur, except that three good people will die if I do not have 350 Francs in six days."

Now the old bourgeois wasn't just laughing, he was guffawing himself into a coughing fit. Finally he recovered, and looked at the still stony Marius, "Then you are serious Monsieur. Oh dear, I'm afraid I cannot give you my money until I know to what use it will be put."

"If I told you, you would not give me a sou. Trust me when I say it will be used for good."

Monsieur Gillenormand fixed his grandson with a hard and calculating look that made Marius feel that he was a child again. The child that was a shame to this house because his father had been a General, and a Baron, under the Empire. "We have two very different definitions for that word. Your time here has been wasted. You are right. You will not receive a sou. Show him out Basque."

Marius lost his pride. "Grandfather please! I beg you. Innocent people will die if you do not help me."

Monsieur Gillenormand was deeply softened by the tender use of the word 'Grandfather'. The deepest parts of his old heart still held love for his daughter's son. "Tell me what the money is for."

"To release a man from the galleys," Marius muttered desperately, hands in his dark tangled hair, and eyes on the floor.

The old man glared, shaking his head. "Just like your father. Rebellious briggand," and he raised his cane to hit his grandson as he so often had before, but Marius was quicker.

He caught the weapon before it found his head, held it there, and held his grandfather's gase. "I wish to free this man because I know him to be good. I do not take this cane right now, beat you, and force you to give me what I require, because I am trying to follow his example, and that of my father, who I know so little of because of you and your money."

They stayed that way for a moment, both shaking, heads pounding, until Marius let go of the cane and walked calmly out the door, shutting it politely behind him.

Shoulders sagging and boots dragging, Marius began the long walk home. He had failed. He had promised Cosette he could help her, and now that his grandfather had turned him down, he had run out of options. But how could he have trusted the old Royalist to ever do anyone a kindness?

Just as Marius was beginning to lose himself in this fog of dark thoughts, a ricketty carriage came clattering by over the cobblestones. Marius hadn't noticed it, but it had certainly noticed him That is, the people inside had. It had turned around immediately and was pulling straight toward him.

"Marius old boy!", It was Courfeyrac's boisterous head which stuck itself out the window. "Marius! What do you think you are doing? Get in the carriage at once!" Marius smiled. He could always count on Courfeyrac, especially when his friend hadn't a clue what the trouble was. It was he who had taken Marius in three years ago when he first struck out on his own. He had helped him get a job, a flat, and even introduced him to the secret group les Amis de l'ABC.

Marius got into the carriage, which, he learned, was already quite crowded. There were two lovely girls inside, with enormously full skirts, and another man: Grantaire. Marius squeezed himself between Courfeyrac and the window and ignored the others. He was incapable of noticing women while thinking of Cosette, and Grantaire was the last person he wanted to converse with at the moment.

"We're headed to a ball," announced Courfeyrac as the carriage began to jostle them, "A very shabby one to be sure, but a ball none the less. What are you doing?"

Marius didn't want to lie to his friend, but he'd prefer it to the truth just now. "I suppose I was wandering around, you know how I do that sometimes, just thinking of things, and I got a bit carried away."

Courfeyrac laughed, "A bit? We're a good three hours drive from your little place." And then, to the mademoiselle he added, "He is a very strange man, my friend. Always getting himself into trouble."The girl giggled.

"Trouble is right!" put in Grantaire, "Enjolras was downright murderous when you left the meeting last night, and you didn't come to the rally this morning." Marius mentally smacked himself.

"Ah I forgot! I am sorry. Truly, I've just been too preoccupied since..." Marius shook his head, "I haven't had time to think of anything else,".

Courfeyrac's eyes went wide and he looked around at the others, "Do you know what this means everyone?" Grantaire smirked, but the ladies simply shook their heads. "Our Marius is in love at last!" Marius blushed. Grantaire applauded. The two girls laughed lightly. "Do you know how many beautiful mademoiselles I have shown him as they passed by, and they may as well have been pretty trees! Oh this girl must be some kind of Goddess to have attracted his attention!" The girl must have betrayed some disappointment behind her smile, because Courfeyrac added, "Although I don't know how he isn't distracted by you my dearest," and kissed her sleek dark hair.

"Did the rally go well?" asked Marius.

Courfeyrac squinted,"I suppose it did...I know Enjolras has a lot of faith in them, but the people are fickle. There was a feeling at the rally I couldn't describe. I felt sure that if we had built a barricade at that moment, they would rise and join us. But then some guards showed their faces and everyone scattered. They've been taught for too long to fear and obey."

"Their children have got to be fed." Muttered Grantaire.

"Must we talk politics now?" asked the brunette next to him.

"You are right mademoiselle. I apologise! We must be merry! Today will be a wonderful day!" he took a swig from his bottle and offered some to her. To his surprise and disappointment she took a big gulp. After the shock however, Grantaire beamed, "That was impressive, Adela! Why aren't there more women in the world like you?"


	12. An Act of Desperate Anger

Days went by and Cosette and Marius scraped together what they could. They only ate every other day, and when they did eat, it wasn't much. Cosette worked as a maid to any and all of the friends of the ABC, and Marius argued what cases he could. Both would come home tired, and frustrated, but the sight of each other would lift their spirits and almost make them forget their hunger. They kept a small jar under the bed of all their earnings, covered by the overturned laundry basket Cosette took with her on her rounds.

The rebel students paid Cosette as much as they were able, but they could not know the urgency of the task at hand. As for Marius, he was a new lawyer, and although he was good, he lacked credentials. His clients were the ones desperate for any lawyer available. They could not pay as well as their richer opponents.

At the end of the week, they counted their earnings. It amounted to only 131 Francs and 12 Sous. The amount was not even close. Marius knew all his friends together could never come up with the difference. They were out of options.

"No," Cosette whispered, sinking to her knees, "No," she said again, and seeming to forget where she was, began to speak directly to Jean Valjean, tears streaming down her face, and breath catching in her chest, "Papa I tried! It's all my fault. It was my idea to go accept that invitation. Oh my poor papa! I'm sorry, I'm so-",

"Shhh Cosette, my angel it's not your fault," Marius sat behind her rubbing his hands up and down her tired arms. She turned around and sobbed into his shoulder. They sat holding each other until Cosette stopped her tears.

"Marius I want to die," she said, hands on his cheeks holding his gaze firmly. They searched each other's eyes until a gunshot shocked them back down to earth. Marius ran to the window, and looked out anxiously. A huge crowd had gathered in the street. A woman lay bleeding right outside the building's door. He recognised a few of his friends running like mad, tearing up the street, and calling down for furniture. So the day had finally come. They were building the barricade.

"What is it?" sniffed Cosette. Marius, conscious of what his love had just told him said, "Nothing," and attempted to block the curtainless window.

"It is something. Marius let me see!" She stormed over and tried to shove him out of the way, but, hands around her waist, he held her back easily. "Fine. If you won't let me see, tell me." She insisted.

Marius sighed, "A barricade. They're building one out in the street," he grew distant, thinking of his friends, "People will die, fighting for what's right."

"I'm going," Cosette resolved, and started for the door. "I want to die fighting for the rights of the people. People like my papa." Her voice quavered a bit, and a silent tear rolled down her cheek, but she was strong. A week ago, Cosette might have been too afraid given the chance to go, and she probably wouldn't have known of it. But this was a different Cosette than the one who enjoyed lace petticoats and butterflies. The past week had aged her.

"What?" Marius asked, stunned. "No you can't! Cosette you're a woman!",

"You are right. I will disguise myself in your black suit."

She was about to remove her dress in his presence, but thought better of it saying, "Oh, I forgot we weren't married." Then she ducked behind the sheet, and began to change. Marius dared not stop her for fear of stealing her privacy. Instead he resorted to his chosen profession.

"You do not know how to shoot a gun."

"Papa taught me."

"You...you...Cosette you cannot die! How could I live without you?"

She stopped changing, and said from behind the sheet, She stopped changing, and said from behind the sheet, "You are right Marius, I cannot die, for there could be no heaven without you." She put on Marius's coat and came out from behind the sheet. She placed her hands on his chest, and stared up at his face, "But I know that both of us would die inside, if we did not go tonight."

Marius looked down and sighed, "Why must you always be right?"

"Because I love your heart, and I know it like the palm of my hand."

"I love you."

"I love you."

This time, the kiss was passionate, alive with the fire in their souls. While her fingers were messing up his dark soft hair, his hands were traveling up and down her back, feeling her delicate figure through his box like coat. Marius broke the kiss first.

"Darling I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Stay at the back of the barricade. They will have a place for the wounded, and they will need you, desperately. Stay out of the fighting and tend to the wounded." He leaned over, hands at the place where jaws and necks connect, thumbs caressing her cheekbones.

"I will," Cosette promised. Marius sighed, the weight of the world leaving his shoulders. "And you promise me something, Monsieur Baron," When Cosette called him that, it was so different from the way M. Gillenormand spat it out. Though she knew quite well that Marius didn't agree with titles, and carried the name for his father's sake, she meant to tell him that General Pontmercy would be proud of him.

"Anything."

Her eyebrows furrowed, in an effort to keep the tears back, "Whatever happens, promise me you will stay alive."

Marius swallowed, knowing to promise such a thing would be a grand lie indeed, and said, "I do not think it is possible to be so loved, and surrender to death."

They embraced, her head on his chest, his lips in her hair, and headed for the door.


	13. A Hero

Cosette's hands were red with blood. The smell was making her head spin, and her stomach churn. The sky was black, and everything looked much worse flickering in the light of the torch above her.

"We need more lint!". She called over the battle, but her rasping voice was drowned in exploding cannons, and screaming men. Jehan needed to stop bleeding if he was going to live. She had already donated Marius's good coat. Now she began ripping up his shirtsleeves, and shoving them between the blood and the bandage. She glanced back at the barricade as she mopped a nameless man's sweaty forehead. Good. Marius was still fighting strong. Cosette turned back to her work.

Marius stood at the side of Enjolras and Combeferre, firing his rifle through the spokes of a wagon wheel. Suddenly a marksman found his aim.

"Duck Marius!" called Jolly from behind him. He obeyed. The bullet grazed his head, knocking him off balance. He ignored it, and continued to shoot until the sticky warm blood clotted over his eyes, and impaired his vision. He crouched behind a barrel of gunpowder, and wiped his eyes, but the blood kept coming. The pain was starting to kick in, making him want to blackout, but he remembered his promise to Cosette, and fought the darkness. He looked behind him, to the back of the barricade. She would be there, healing the wounded. She could give him the strength he needed to carry on. But his love was gone.

Panicking, Marius flung his aching head around. Amid the stars popping before his eyes, he saw Cosette being dragged away, kicking and screaming unintelligibly, by two of the municipal guards. A flash of pride struck him: it took two of them to capture the wild thing. But then his heart hit the bottom of his stomach like a boulder. Cosette had been taken prisoner, and the only way to save her was to win this battle.

The thought was enough to resurrect the near-dead revolutionary. He ripped off his left sleeve, tied it tightly around his own head, and stood. An idea from heaven struck him like a bolt of lightning. Filling a bucket with gunpowder, and grabbing a nearby torch, Marius raced to the top of the barricade, and called in a thundering voice,"Fall back!" He had their attention now, "Fall back, or I blow the barricade!"

One of the captains was next to him, climbing. "Blow it up and take yourself with it?"

"And myself with it." Marius panted.

The captain deliberated only briefly, then repeated Marius's order to his company. They obeyed, and the rebels were left to themselves, for the time being.


	14. A Scrap of News

It was near to three a.m., but Jean Valjean was awake. His worry kept him that way lately, the bags under his eyes grew darker by the morning. Suddenly he heard a pair of guards conversing in the darkness.

"A woman? are you sure?"

"Yes a woman. Taken prisoner from the barricade. Name's Colette I think or was it Courgette?...No...anyway, they're deciding what to do with her right now. We won't attack until tomorrow, so I thought I'd slip away and come chat with my little brother for a bit."

"Well I'm glad you did, monsieur,".

"Actually, they asked for reinforcements from the prison."

"Oh."

Jean Valjean didn't need to hear any more. Anxious situations had always brought out the best of his conniving ex-convict side. His daughter was in danger, and the only way to truly save her was to somehow win this revolution. A plan he hadn't thought of till tonight, a plan that was on the more brilliant side of genius, entered his mind. He was going to need all the help he could get. He jangled his chain across the cell bars to his left.

"What is it Jean the Jack?" The prisoner next to him asked. Jean Valjean was something of a hero to his prison mates. He always treated them with the utmost respect, and never judged them, no matter what their crimes. Besides, he had successfully evaded the great Javert for nearly twenty years.

"Can I trust you Didier?" Jean Valjean whispered. The middle aged man nodded emphatically. Jean Valjean wrote the letters JB in the palm of his hand-a well known code for Jail Break- then checked his eyes to make sure he understood. They held inside them fear, and understanding of the gravity of the situation, and trust.

"Listen, and you'll know. Soon. Pass it on."

"Quiet over there! What were you two talking about?" the guard asked, obviously trying to impress his brother.

"I was delivering a message of salvation." The guard looked confused. Didier covered his laugh with a cough.

"I'm Christian monsieur," Jean Valjean added, " I would be thrilled to tell you-",

"Don't be a fool! You lost your Christianity when you committed your crime old man," the guard spat.

For a moment, Jean Valjean was glad of the bars. Not because they separated him from the guard's heavy club, but because they separated the guard from him. The anger inside him was rising every day, like lava in a volcano, ready to explode. He might have hurt this man if the metal bars hadn't reminded him to keep his cool.

The thought frightened him, and he slammed his head against the bar in frustration. Christ was put through a worse abyss than this by far, and had asked God to forgive his torturers. Jean Valjean knelt, and did the same. He prayed for them, for the plan, for the other prisoners, and most of all for Cosette.


	15. A Conquered Prisoner

They were out of bandages. Out of lint. Out of fabric. Too many people were about to be out of blood. Out of life. An entire mattress had fallen from the barricade, and was lying useless on the ground. Cosette didn't stop to think. She sprinted for it. But a body, someone who had just been shot, fell on top of her,knocking her over. She fell hard enough that her lungs forgot how to take in air. She panicked. Screamed. Then, miraculously, the dead body stood up. She sucked in as much air as she could, and headed back for the mattress.

She had taken but two steps when she was seized by two sets of strong uniformed arms. "No! Let me go!" She screamed, before realizing how useless it was, and used her mouth to a more painful end. The soldier yelped, holding his bitten arm, and she was able to turn around before they grabbed her again.

It was worse than when she had fallen. The dead body that had crushed her ribs was Marius. She couldn't breathe. His face was covered in blood, but she knew it was him. She only found her voice again when he had tied his sleeve around his head and stood.

"Marius!", she screeched, her voice leaving her, "Marius I love you! Marius!" Cosette didn't stop fighting until the stress and exhaustion of the past week, combined with the lack of food and the shock of today took over, and she succumbed to an instant sleep.


	16. An Army in Rejuvination

"Marius, what were you thinking? You could have got yourself killed!" Exclaimed Courfeyrac, unleashing a rainstorm of scoldings on his best friend's head.

"He was doing his duty to his country, and to all of you," Enjolras's voice wasn't loud or angry, but it created an immediate awed silence on the barricade. "Marius, you are a hero of the Republic." Enjolras gripped Marius's bony shoulder, and everyone applauded. "Citizens!" he called, "The first battle we have won, but there is yet another coming very soon. We must tend to the wounded, and to our wounded barricade. They will come back even stronger, and so must we."

With that, Enjolras climbed the barricade, and restored the red flag, which had been shot down, to its place. That done, he aided the others in piling up more broken furniture, and saw to the small pile of bloody men, some still moaning, some gone silent. His fiery eyes ever focused on something the others could barely make out in the distance, but that he felt he could almost touch. Men like Enjolras only come around every half century or so, when the world is in need of them most. While others cower in the shadows, they stand and reach for the light. The light they work to shine on the world.

Marius was attempting to shove a table into a crack in the barricade, when Enjolras returned to him. Together, they finished the job. "Now we must rest," Enjolras said gravely, "For tomorrow the sun will rise at last."


	17. A Chance to be Taken

Jean Valjean had waited what seemed like years until he thought the message could be passed on to everyone on this floor of the prison. Usually, a guard was posted directly outside his cell, but due to the rebellion, he and all but the man guarding the only door of the prison (two very thick floors up) had been called away. Now that he was sure of at least partial safety, the convict grabbed the chain on his ankle, and snapped it in two.

He silently moved to the bars separating his cell and Didier's. Using all his strength, he bent the two rusty bars apart. The screeching was magnified in Jean Valjean's ears, but it didn't even wake Didier. Slowly, he squeezed his way between the small gap, stepped across his fellow prisoner, finally waking him, and moved on.

Jean Valjean began at his own cell, in the middle, and worked his way South bending iron bars, rousing prisoners, and breaking ankle chains, until he reached the far wall.

Shushing the last surprised man, he snapped his chain in two, and bade him follow. When they arrived back at his own cell he asked, "Is anyone else capable of bending the bars?"

Soft laughter followed. "You're the strongest man by far Jean the Jack. I wager no one in the whole world would stand a chance 'gains you," a deep voice rumbled. An avalanche of agreement followed. Jean Valjean realised that some of these men were murderers and swindlers who feared, more than respected him.

"Alright then," the old man sighed, "Didier," He motioned to a grate in the floor of Didier's cell. His ally nodded, and took to it's lock with a broken piece of chain. Jean Valjean, hurriedly but silently, made his way North to free the rest of his comrades in chains.

When all the men on the underground level had been freed-at least a good two hundred-Didier had long since finished picking the lock on both the grating, and the top-secret store of weapons (to be had in case of another 1789). Most of the men, catching on to Jean Valjean's plan, had slid into the sewers.

"Meet at the barricade!" Jean Valjean called into the tunnel before jumping in last of all. A skinny boy of probably only nineteen heard him and nodded. Whispering it to the man in front of him.


	18. A Conquered Guard

"Does it hurt much Mademoiselle?" Cosette's guard whispered. The rest of the battalion was asleep, but this young soldier had volunteered to watch the prisoner. Cosette kept her nose up, and her mouth shut. "I'll untie you if you promise not to run," the soldier didn't wait for her answer. He had a gun, and could shoot her easily if she tried anything. He took out his dagger, and began to gently cut the ropes on Cosette's wrists, neck, and ankles.

"Do not expect anything in return for this." Cosette's whisper was harsh and decided.

The guard smiled, "Ah that is right, we are at war with one another. You must think me a swine, but I assure you I am much too respectable for any of that nonsense. A-and if I may say so, you strike me as a lady of high breeding. Mademoiselle is a Bourgeois, perhaps, soon to be Madam la Baroness."

Cosette exhaled, raising her eyebrows at his close guess. It Cosette exhaled, raising her eyebrows at his close guess. It was such a relief to be able to turn her head again. To let blood drain back into her fingers, which had been above her head for far too long. She rubbed her wrists, red and bloody from the rough rope, and sighed.

" You are almost right monsieur. I suppose we might have been, if either of us thought it just. We are silly idealists I suppose...Thank you for your kindness." She stared at her feet. Marius's shoes.

"Then you are in love with one of them." The soldier raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, very much so." Cosette sighed, "And I am much preoccupied over the condition of his fate."

"Why?" the young guard was genuinely concerned.

Cosette swallowed, but her voice quavered, and she had to cover her mouth to keep from sobbing. Finally she was able to speak almost collectedly, "He suffered a wound to the head right before I was captured. I do not know the gravity of it, and I can not be sure he will recover." Cosette found herself crying on the soldier's shoulder. She did not care how absurd it was. Comfort from anyone was welcome at the moment.

"Is that why you're here then?" asked the soldier, "To fight with your...lover? If he loves you so much, why did he make you come here tonight?"

Cosette straightened, suddenly dignified, "He let me come here because he loves me. I wanted to fight for what I believe is right. I was angry at the way things are. I wanted to be brave like my papa, a common convict who is a saint. Marius and I could not have lived with ourselves had we cowered inside tonight. If I could go back I would repeat my actions, I assure you monsieur."

Most of this little speech did not make sense to the guard. A convict saint? But his prisoner's passion inspired him. "At least you came here for a reason. I came here to do my job. To support my wife and son. Someday, when he grows up, he will learn to sell lives for money just as I have, and take my place."

"But it doesn't have to be that way," Cosette whispered cautiously.

After a long, thoughtful pause, the soldier answered, "You're right,". Then suddenly hearing his own words, he said them again. This time with confidence. "You're right. Mademoiselle, If I die, promise me you will take care of my son, and my wife. Find a place for them, and watch over them. Promise me," he finished scribbling an address on a piece of scrap paper, and shoved it into her hands.

Cosette was confused, but agreed. "I promise." The soldier thanked her, grabbed his rifle, and stood. "But where are you going, Monsieur?"

He stooped back down again, "To the barricades."

"What?" Cosette had no idea she could be so persuasive. "Wait for me," she hissed stepping over a sleeping body.

"Mademoiselle no matter what your-what is he?"

"He is my Marius."

"Okay then, no matter what your Marius says, a battle is no place for a woman."

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm no woman!" Cosette gestured to her clothing in the lightening sky.

"Clever," said the soldier, "But I suggest you head home."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm confined to nursing."

"It doesn't make me feel better. Look where 'confined to nursing' got you last time. I feel dishonorable letting a woman go to battle."

"Well, you'll simply have to get over it," Cosette answered, "I must see my Marius, and you cannot stop me."


	19. An Alliance

The sewer was almost black, and the smell was noxious. Jean Valjean had already pulled several men out of the quagmire, and changed directions, but not a man, or even a single weapon, had been lost. The light through the gratings grew brighter, and Jean Valjean knew they were going to have to make their exit quickly or they'd be caught. He listened for sounds of battle, but could detect nothing. They must still be asleep. Suddenly, through the sloshing, a gunshot rang out. The convicts froze.

"Now is the time," breathed Jean Valjean, and in a louder voice, "This battle must be won, if we are ever to truly be-", A spattering of fire drowned out the last word, but they all understood what it was. They could hear it in their hearts, pumping hope through their veins. Their leader punched open the grate above their heads, and they climbed out one by one.

Jean Valjean and the rest found themselves in a position quite contrary to the one he had planned. Not only were they on the wrong side of the barricade; they were on the wrong side of the King's Soldiers. This was an enormous, if accidental, advantage. The enemy was utterly oblivious to their presence, and while they blocked the grapeshot from the barricade, they, at least at first, were like wooden targets, waiting to be taken out by surprise.

The other escapees jumped right into the fray, but Jean Valjean was hesitant. Was it right to kill a man with his back turned, when that man was the clear enemy, against your just cause? Yes, he decided, these are my enemies. The enemies of freedom and right. But are not all men brothers under God? Jean Valjean resolved to aim only for the brims of their hats. This proved very successful indeed, and men began dropping, unconscious, but uninjured, to the ground.


	20. A Tragedy and a Relief

It was that in between time after night, but before dawn when Gavroche awoke. He had come to the barricade to fight, and fight he had. Having acquired a rifle from a drunken Grantaire, the gamin had fought with the ferocity of twenty men twice his size. His enthusiasm had seemed endless, until Marius forced the soldiers back and weariness took over his body like a sudden frost. But now, after a good night's rest in an overturned wheelbarrow, the young warrior was fully rejuvenated, and he had a marvelous scheme in mind.

He darted through a hole in the barricade through which only someone small as he could go, and beheld his treasure. Heaps of fallen soldiers lay in the street with their weapons, bullets and all, still intact. Gavroche had overheard Combeferre warning Enjolras of the danger they faced: they were tight on ammunition.

As the sun began to spread its first white light on the sky, Gavroche began to sing. As he did, he scampered about picking through sticky red bodies with a basket. He was collecting the ammunition that could save the barricade and therefore, according to Enjolras, the Nation. Possibly even the world. The gamin was engrossed in the supreme importance of his task.

The little boy did not notice when the municipal guards began to awake. He did not notice when Courfeyrac awoke as well, and called him back to the safety of the barricade. He did not notice the bullet flying towards his heart, but he felt it when it hit. He breathed his last small breath like so many before it, in pain.

Courfeyrac died in that moment. He charged like a madman to the top of the barricade, and fired his rifle at random. For him, it was a relief when the bullet found his already shattered heart.


	21. A Great Many Tears

"Oh my poor Marius!" If Cosette had been an angel, she could not have flown faster. She was at the poor wounded man's side in a heartbeat. Her own heart beat very fast, but his was ever slowing, like a top that has spun for too long.

"Cosette," he coughed, squinting, "My Cosette, is it really you?"

"Yes!" She gasped, her thrill at hearing his voice encompassed the sound in springtime. But she was no longer a child. "Marius, remember your promise."

"I do darling, I do," his laughter turned to a bloody cough. "My greatest fear is that my last action on this earth will be to break it."

"Hush! Don't say that!" Cosette dabbed his mouth with his borrowed shirt that she wore, and pulled her eyes away from him scanning the scene for any sort of bandage material. There was nothing, and all hands were at the front of the barricade, not remembering the wounded they had dragged in a corner. It was not their fault. They needed every gun firing, if they were going to win this battle. But Cosette couldn't understand though, she hated all of them. All she knew was that Marius, her love, and their friend was dying, and they did not even care.


	22. A Victorious Freedom

Enjolras was ablaze with the hopeful fire of adrenaline, but he kept his head level. "Fire!" he bellowed. A blast of bullets broke the dawn, and several hearts were suddenly stopped. Enjolras felt every shot as if it had entered his own body. But killing was the last remaining obstacle in the fight for freedom. If a few must die-even if he was one of them-so that the world could truly live, it was worth the loss.

He ducked beneath a bullet, and heard someone go down behind him. If I hadn't dodged, he thought, the other man might have lived. He promised to remember that, and never take another moment for granted. "Fire!", he called again. The smoke from the muskets and rifles filled his lungs, and stung his eyes. His body was whole as of yet, but not for long. His focus was blurring.

Suddenly, something white caught his attention in the foggy morning light. It was large, and billowing like a flag. A flag? No, he told himself, do not fool yourself Enjolras. It does not mean a surrender. "Combeferre!" He called into the battle, but Combeferre had fallen. He had no advisor to turn to. Now he had only himself. The killing was painful. He did not wish to continue it any longer than necessary.

"Everyone down, now!" His would be the only life spent in this reckless plan. If this was not what he hoped, he would make sure there was nothing to shoot at but him. As soon as he was obeyed, Enjolras mounted the barricade, and snatched up the red flag. Its mast was cracked, the fabric torn, but it was still standing. Above the smoke, he could see the other flag. The white one raised by the enemy. No, not the enemy anymore, Enjolras amended his thoughts, France is free at last, and they too, are citizens. The rights of man pertain to all.


	23. A Lovely End, and A Glorious Dawn

Epilogue: Christmas, 1834

"Merry Christmas papa!" Cosette smiled as she handed her father a brown paper package.

"Thank you very much Cosette, and here is one for you."

"Oh papa, I told you not to! Marius spoils me enough as it is!" but she laughed, and took it happily.

"You are too easy to spoil my love." Her husband kissed her head, as she fingered his christmas present to her, a simple but beautiful string of blue pearls.

"I did not know you would be home so soon darling! What a wonderful surprise!",

"Well, it is Christmas Eve, the meeting couldn't have gone on too long."

"But it is Enjolras. You never know with him."

"You are right of course." Marius laughed.

Jean Valjean stood and clapped Marius on the back. "Merry Christmas son," he said, handing him a box with a silver watch chain inside from himself and Cosette. She beamed as he eagerly tore off the wrapping and thanked them both, saying it was the perfect gift. The parlor and dining room were one large room together. They were anything but grand, but they were filled with rosy firelight, red ribbons, and green garlands. The three people occupying the beautiful space retained scars from days past, but no where in the world could you find a happier group.

Suddenly, a forlorn little wail was heard from around the corner.

"Oh, that will be little Courf," sighed Cosette not unhappily.

"I'll get him!" Marius and Jean Valjean exclaimed in unison.

"No no, he needs to be fed." She smiled, and left the room to rescue her screaming baby.

"Speaking of which," said Marius following her into the blue and white nursery, "When are our guests due?"

"They should be arriving soon. I invited the usuals of course. Monsieur Didier, the Thenardier girls-"

"Oh darling, why-"

"I know you don't appreciate their company, but I greatly dislike having Grantaire around, and yet he is here very often indeed."

Marius nodded, agreeing, "to be sure, he can be quite dissagreeable, but it would be rude not to invite him when the others are always being asked to come,"

"Perfectly put, my love. But in answer to your question, I did ask a great many more, on account of Christmas, but don't trouble yourself Marius, papa and I have everything in order." And then to the baby, "Oh there he is! Ohh shhh! Mama's here shhh shhh!" The chubby newborn continued to wail until he felt his mother's arms around him, at which point, his cries turned to coos. "Oh, what a good boy you are!" Cosette kissed the infant's nose.

A pound at the door reminded them both of the happy occasion which awaited them. Cosette stayed in the nursery feeding little Courf while Marius went with Jean Valjean to open the door. The small family had no servants, since they had decided their money was better spent elsewhere-on the poor of the Republic-and could easily manage on their own.

"Come in! Come in!" Jean Valjean welcomed their shabby visitors with a warm smile, glad at last to be passing on the bishop's legacy. The Pontmercy-Valjean house was a second home to all who needed one, especially at Christmas. Jean Valjean's case had been argued in a fair court by none other than Marius himself, and he had been pardoned. All three were considered heroes in the eyes of the budding French Republic. Therefore almost every night the enormous dining table was crowded with newfound friends Cosette had dug up at the market that day.

Not many hours later, the parlour was crowded with citizens of France from all walks of life, sitting comfortably in overstuffed armchairs, benches, chairs from the kitchen, or even the carpeted floor. All were stuffed to bursting with Christmas dinner, and all were singing, laughing or talking merrily with one another about everything and nothing all at once.

"But now that the vote is a free right to all," Enjolras was talking to Nicole, the widow of Cosette's guard, who had died at the barricade behind Enjolras, almost at the end of the great battle. Enjolras had heard that Cosette was searching for someone to watch over Nicole, and two year old Victor, and had jumped at the opportunity. He would not admit to it as of yet, but both Marius and Cosette speculated that he held deeper feelings for the woman than those of a protector.

"But that is not quite true Monsieur Enjolras," Nicole argued.

"Of course it-",

"No. We women are still excluded."

Enjolras paused for a moment and sighed, nodding. "My dear Nicole, you are exactly right. I had never thought of such a thing before."

"Of course you hadn't. No one has, but it is no fault of yours. Society has always overlooked us."

"I shall be sure to mention it to the committee tomorrow."

Meanwhile, young Victor was busy playing some wild game with the other children, and their favorite person in the world: Jean Valjean. They ran between the adults, laughing squealing, hiding, and pouncing.

Grantaire and Eponine were laughing wildly in the hall and Joly was wandering around the room cautioning everyone about the weather, and the food on their plates.

Cosette, arm and arm with Marius, and holding Courfeyrac, moved through the room like a fairy, bringing warmth and smiles wherever she went. Those who were not talking or exchanging gifts sang carols, The music warmed hearts, and soothed worries, it seemed as if the happiness would never leave.


End file.
